Page 14 of Punishing Penelope
There are murmurs of various degrees of agreement, but everyone moves to the porch except Savannah, who I order to wait in the car, with Lexi sitting by her side.
Stephan pulls open the screen door, a keychain rattles, then he unlocks the door. Opening it, he jerks his head for us to follow.
“Why are we sneaking?” Cole whispers. “Aren’t they supposed to be away?”
“I dunno. It feels right.” I exaggeratedly tiptoe through the hallway, then twirl.
The light comes on, and we all groan and squint, glaring at Sandra, who has her hand on the light switch.
“What?” She throws out her hand. “They’re away. He lives here! What’s with the hush-hush?”
Stephan takes two long strides through the narrow space and turns off the light. Before we’re plunged into darkness, I catch an odd look on his face as if he’s uncomfortable… or guilty.
“Neighbors think they’re away.”
“Don’t you live here, man?” Peter asks.
I throw him a quick glance. My thoughts exactly.
“Come on,” Stephan whispers, moving away from me. “This way.” He leads us to the far end of the living room, then opens a door to reveal a closet.
Liam turns on the flashlight on his cell phone and swipes the ray of light across an unbelievable mess of bags, boxes, old sports equipment, and things I can’t even make out.
Stephan moves some of the stuff around, then pulls out a chest and opens it with a dramatic gesture as if he’s a magician who just conjured a bunny.
“Behold. Everyone, grab something, then let’s get going.”
No one sees anything. I have no idea what’s in my hand, except it’s a glass bottle with sloshing contents.
I still don’t know why we’re whispering and sneaking, and I still think it’s really weird.
Suddenly the lights come on again, and we collectively groan.
“Sandra!” says Cole.
She holds up her arms, a bottle of vodka in her right hand, her left hand empty.
“I didn’t—”
I look across the room and catch a shadow of someone moving. There’s a man, the top of his head bald, the hair on his neck a little too long, wearing a formerly white wife-beater, its front soiled with orange and brown stains, and blue-and-green checked pajama pants. The wife-beater fights to stay over a giant beer belly.
In his hands, a long metal object.
“Gun!” I scream and dart across the room toward the door.
The doorway gets jammed when we all try to get out at the same time. Someone grabs my hand and pulls me out. The next moment, I tumble with Peter onto the stone pavement on the driveway, scraping knees and elbows, all of us throwing ourselves left and right to get out of the line of fire.
Amid it all, I hear Stephan’s frantic pleading, then a shot goes off.
Someone screams, high pitched, a sound filled with so much agony, I’ll never forget it.
Everyone out, we scramble to find our bearings, then run for the cars. I dare a glance over my shoulder. He stands in his doorway, swaying, a silhouette lit from behind, the gun not aimed at us anymore. There’s yelling, but I can’t make out what he says. The neighborhood isn’t dark anymore; lights coming on in several houses.
Next to our car sits Lexi, someone’s head on her lap. She rocks back and forth, shaking and crying.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no. She went out of the car. Why did she go out of the car?”
My heart drops, then it’s as if everything around me ceases to exist.